


"We're Not Dating!"

by Glissa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except they're not, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Post Season 2, Stiles is Derek's mate, except they're also real, fully formed and functioning pack, he just doesn't know it, mates are a myth, stiles and derek are practically a couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glissa/pseuds/Glissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There must be something in the water supply in Beacon Hills. That has to be the only explanation as to why everyone thinks they're dating. </p><p>Either that, or there's something Stiles and Derek don't know.</p><p>Or: 12 times the pack, and the pack by proxy, think Stiles and Derek are dating but they aren't, and the one time they actually are. </p><p>Note: this isn't a WIP, it is completely finished, and I'll be updating in increments again!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Isaac

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: ["We're Not Dating!"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132880) by [Ookami_san](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookami_san/pseuds/Ookami_san)



> So this is the sort of companion piece to my previous work "Secrets and Family Don't Mix" . Basically I had such fun writing that one, I thought, "what if the reverse happened", and this was the result. Naturally, queue more fluff for Stiles and Derek, because both those boys deserve it, and I'll give it to them whether it kills me or not. 
> 
> Like before, kudos, comments and bookmarks are all welcome. This'll be the second piece I've ever posted so please be gentle with me. It's unbeta'd, so any spelling or grammar mistakes, or just anything I've overlooked in general is my fault and I apologise in advance. 
> 
> I do not give permission for any of my work to appear on any other websites, Goodreads etc. or to be re-posted anywhere else, unless permission has been asked. I spent a lot of time on this and I'd like the courtesy that it won't be stolen. I don't own, nor am I in any way affiliated with Teen Wolf or MTV. If I was, Derek Hale would be given Stiles, a duvet, a tub of ice cream and a TV and they would be forced to relax and basically cuddle all day.
> 
> I hope this isn't crap! Sorry if it is!

Stiles sat slouched in his desk chair, eyes blearily focused on the half blurred words on his laptop screen. The soft tinny sound of an alternative band he found on YouTube during a research break last week played over the speakers, drowning out the quiet of the empty house around him. It wasn’t even late, by any standards, coming up to six o’clock in the evening, but it’d been a hectic week school wise with four papers due in and a quiz to study for, as well as the troupe of fairies that wondered into the preserve at the end of last week that he had to research, and then be on watch for in the evenings; so to say Stiles was tired was an understatement, he was exhausted.

A faint thud outside his window alerted him to a visitor, but he paid it no mind, intent on finishing reading at least this article. He heard the brush of the bottom window sash being pulled up, and with a quick flick of his gaze, he confirmed who it was. He returned his focus to the article for the moment as Derek gracefully pulled himself in, staying quiet as he shut the window, and then slumped straight for Stiles’ bed, falling face down on the pillow with a tired groan.

“What’re you doing here so early? I thought you were teaching ‘Werewolf 101’ tonight?” Stiles half-teased as he re-read the same sentence again, possibly for the fifth time.

Behind him, Derek groaned, the bedsheets rustling as he shifted on the bed. “I gave up.” Derek mumbled, tone a mix of tiredness and annoyance. Stiles froze as he eyes locked on the wall behind his laptop. This was definitely something to pay attention to.

“What _happened_?” He asked as he shut his laptop lid and spun on his desk chair. Derek was still lying on his stomach, his head half buried in Stiles’ pillow but turned to face him. Stiles was almost on the edge of his seat, metaphorically, desperate to hear what had occurred at the special werewolf training that Derek started for him to give up so early on in the day.

“They were like kids, wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t follow instructions. Jackson pushed Isaac into a bush of poison ivy. It healed, but he still had a rash for a couple of minutes. Scott complained about Allison not being there. Erica and Boyd snuck off to make out.” He explained, Stiles’ eyebrows rising with every single thing. Sure, they were never that organized during normal training days, and Stiles and Lydia didn’t even really train, but no wonder Derek gave up. He sighed loudly into the pillow, his eyes focusing on the other side of the room, far away from Stiles as he finished, “So I left them out there.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed, knowing that he wasn’t telling the whole truth; he didn’t need to be a werewolf to know when Derek was lying, even he had his tells. But he decided to leave it for the moment, knowing that Derek was too far to the edge to have _that_ conversation, so instead he replied with, “Yeah, no, that sounds horrifying. Did Jackson at least apologise?”

Derek shook his head against the pillow. “Isaac tackled him and they fell into the stream.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, torn between yelling at Derek for not getting photo evidence, and texting them a plethora of wet dog jokes and puns. Derek simply glared at him, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing along with him. It had been pretty funny, watching the two of them struggle their way back onto dry land as they tried to push each other back in. Not that Derek would admit that.

“Okay,” Stiles started through heaving breaths, wiping the metaphorical tears from his eyes, “you lie there like the exhausted parent you are,” Stiles said, ignoring the way Derek’s eyes hardened into a stronger glare, “whilst I finish reading this entry on Redcaps in the bestiary.”

Derek nodded minutely, closing his eyes as he relaxed further on the bed. Stiles spun his chair back to face his desk as he rolled his eyes, making a point to figure out a more effective way of training the werewolves without them throwing tantrums.

Not two minutes back into his reading, his phone buzzed on the desk beside him. He unlocked it and opened up the new message without really looking.

 **Isaac:** _“Is Derek with you? He kind of stormed off during training.”_

**Stiles:** _“Yeah, he’s here. What happened?”_

**Isaac:** _“What did he tell you?”_

**Stiles:** _“That you were fighting and weren’t listening to him.”_

**Isaac:** _“That’s it?”_

**Stiles:** _“What else was there?”_

**Isaac:** _“He kind of threw Jackson into a tree once we got out the stream. And he dragged Erica and Boyd back from wherever they were by their necks. And he yelled at Scott. He was kind of a dick. More so than usual.”_

Stiles felt his eyebrows shooting up as he read that last text. Derek hadn’t really lost his temper in months, not since before they’d become a proper pack. And even when he did get angry, he always tried to stay human. He’d never once really laid a hand on any of them since. The most he did was push people up against walls (and that one time he slammed Stiles’ head into his steering wheel, but he kind of deserved that).

 **Isaac:** _“Is he mad?”_ Another text came through.

**Stiles:** _“Ish? Don’t think he meant it though. Either way you should all apologise tomorrow.”_

**Isaac:** _“Okay. Thanks Stiles. Now go make your boyfriend happy ;)”_

Stiles sputtered as he read the text, his phone slipping out of his grasp as his brain froze. He fumbled for the phone, managing to catch it whilst banging his finger against the edge of the desk before it fell into his trash can.

“What happened?” Derek’s concerned voice from behind startled him, making him jump in his chair.

“Nothing.” Stiles coughed out, face starting to heat up at Isaac’s insinuation. What the hell could he say to that?

“Sure?”

“Yeah.” Stiles cleared his throat as he tried to restart his brain. “Come on, help me make dinner.” He managed to say, wanting to push the conversation between him and Isaac out of his brain.

“Okay.” Derek replied with a small huff as he heaved himself off the bed. Stiles didn’t even look at him as he all but hightailed it out of his bedroom, leaving his phone behind on the desk, face down.


	2. Boyd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks so far guys! Means so much to me that people are reading this! 
> 
> This chapter is short and sweet, and I really liked writing it. Soft, domestic Derek is my fave, so I like to put that side of him in my fics every now and again!

Derek cracked the egg into the mixing bowl, the soft whir of the coffee machine on the counter next to him filling the silence of the loft. Sunlight streaked in through the window to his side, bathing the loft in the beginnings of a warm, Spring Sunday morning. He whisked the eggs into the milk, before pouring it into the bowl of flour, baking soda and salt, mixing it all together into a smooth batter. He never liked making pancakes from the box, with his heightened senses it always emphasised the tangy taste of chemicals. Besides, his father had always made pancakes from scratch every Sunday, and had taught all the kids to do it from a young age. In a way, it was Derek’s way of keeping up with tradition.

He was so focused on making the first pancake, he didn’t even notice Boyd entering the building until the loft door rolled back, the quiet Beta strolling in casually. He stopped in the middle of the loft as he saw Derek, wearing sweatpants and a ratty grey tank top, standing in front of the stove, the smell of fresh pancakes and bacon lingering in the air.

“Are you baking?” Boyd asked, not as judgemental as Derek would’ve thought, but still sounding a little incredulous. “Why are you baking? And why do I smell Stiles?” He continued before Derek could reply.

As if knowing he was being talked about, Stiles mumbled something in his sleep, shifting around in the bed off to the side of the loft loudly as he rolled onto his side. Both Alpha and Beta watched as Stiles buried himself in the pillow next to him - Derek’s pillow - before smacking his lips and falling back into a deeper sleep.

Boyd turned back to look at Derek slowly, mouth open slightly, eyes wide in shock, and eyebrows raised. The start of a curl on his lips was visible, and Derek knew he was torn between making a joke and just leaving it be.

Derek on the other hand, he knew his face had begun to flush red. There wasn’t even anything to be embarrassed about. After Stiles had broken down and confessed to Derek that he was still having the occasional nightmare about the coven of witches that had kidnapped and tortured him a few months ago, more so on the nights that his father was at work, Derek offered to let him crash at the loft. But when most of the nights Stiles had woken up screaming, only to fall back asleep in Derek’s bed a couple of hours later during a crappy movie they stuck on to help calm him down, well, it just made sense to let Stiles sleep in his bed completely. Not that Derek minded. Having someone next to him, someone he could trust, someone who cared enough to keep him company, and to wake him up when his own nightmares visited, was comforting. In fact, Derek knew that both of them had been sleeping better since they made this arrangement, and their nightmares were becoming less frequent.

So, really, Derek had no reason to blush about being caught with Stiles fast asleep in his bed; but the way Boyd was looking at him, was telling him something different.

“So, you finally made a move huh?” Boyd asked, eyebrows still raised and smirk growing on his lips. The shock had clearly worn off.

“What?” Derek replied, perplexed as he flipped the pancake over.

“You and Stiles. How long you been together?”

Derek choked, forcing himself to keep as quiet as possible as he coughed so as not to wake Stiles. “We’re not - we’re not together. Dating.” He sputtered out, face going even redder.

Boyd’s eyebrows rose even higher as he looked from Derek, to Stiles, and then back to Derek again.

“It’s not like that.” Derek huffed out, rolling his eyes as he took the pancake out of the pan and placed it on a plate, before slipping it into the oven to keep it cool.

“Sure it’s not. Just. Use protection, that’s all.” Boyd said, hands raised in surrender as he backed out of the loft. Derek dropped the spatula on the counter and glared at the retreating beta, words stuck in his throat.

From the bed, Stiles mumbled something again and buried himself under the duvet, clearly intent on staying in bed all morning.

Not that Derek could blame him.


	3. Erica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks so far guys! Just seeing the response to this fic so far has gotten me through a shitty day, so thank you so much!
> 
> This chapter got re-written several times, and whilst this is one of the longest chapters in this fic, I'm actually quite pleased with how it came out. Fingers crossed you guys like it! :)

Stiles fell backwards on the sofa, the soft cushions making a loud popping noise under his sudden weight. He groaned as he shifted slightly, his neck cracking when he tilted it to the side. He was done, absolutely done. Detention with Harris for _sneezing_ had been the last straw, so with no immediate pack business or disasters or even homework to worry about, and with his dad on the late shift, Stiles was having the night off. He wasn’t going to move, except for food and bathroom needs, and he most definitely wasn’t going to think about anything except for who the killer was on CSI.

He had a whole season to catch up on. A whole season. That was his whole night sorted. There was pizza in the oven, and two whole litres of OJ by his side, and there may be a small tub of cookie dough ice cream in the freeze. Tonight would be glorious.

He flicked the TV on even as he booted up his laptop, intent to also finish his mission on _Skyrim_. He had a High Hrothgar to climb after all, there was no way he was just leaving that for another day.

Half an episode in, he heard a heavy thump come from upstairs, the sound familiar enough to his ears after all the times Derek and his heavy boots had dropped in. For all that the guy was a big, strong, terrifying Alpha werewolf who could creep like there was no tomorrow, when it came to Stiles, he just didn’t care.

Unless he wanted to scare the crap out of him, of course.

Even so, Stiles let out a small grunt of displeasure as he cast his gaze on the ceiling, knowing that the Alpha would hear him.

“Derek. Not tonight. I’m done.” He moaned, not even bothering to pause his episode. Derek would just check in, make sure he’s fine, and then either leave, or collapse on the sofa next to him and argue over who the killer was with him.

“Not Derek, Stiles.” Erica’s voice called out as she trudged down the stairs and into the front room. Stiles yelped and jolted upright, almost sending his laptop flying to its death. “You’re actually decent for once.” She teased as she sat down, squeezing into the small gap between the back of the sofa and his outstretched legs, her own legs bent up so she could rest her chin on her kneecaps.

Stiles flushed as he sat up a little, hating how after all this time she hadn’t let it go. It wasn’t his fault she jumped through his window during his “happy time”. She should’ve knocked! Or smelt it! Or even heard it! It wasn’t like he was trying to be quiet or anything.

“What’s up Catwoman?” Stiles asked instead, swallowing his embarrassment down.

Erica let out a loud and heavy sigh, and Stiles hated how he only just realised how _defeated_ she looked. Her hair, so normally styled and curled perfectly, was back to the knotted mess she had before she was bitten, and face, whilst still beautiful, was make up free, and her eyes were red and blotchy, like she’d been crying.

“Boyd and I had this massive, stupid fight.” She admitted through a sniffle, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her hoody. Boyd’s hoody, he noted.

“What about?” Stiles asked, because for Erica and Boyd to fight, the only couple to never really fight, at least not publicly, and for Erica to be so visibly upset about it, upset enough to seek him out, it had to be bad.

“Everything. College. Our future. I don’t know, one minute we’re arguing about the fact that I don’t want to go to college, and the next we’re arguing over the freaking washing up or how clothes don’t get picked up. God, it was so horrible. Said so many stupid things. What if he won’t forgive me, Stiles?” She asked, looking up at him with wide, vulnerable and miserable eyes, glazed over with tears.

Stiles heart shattered at the sight. He placed his laptop on the floor as he sat up properly, scooting forwards to wrap his arms around the beta in a hug. He ran a hand over her hair as he soothed her, just like his mom used to do, letting her cry into his shoulder.

“It’ll be alright. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how much Boyd loves you. I’m not lying, you should see the way he looks at you. If there was a contest for biggest heart-eyes in the pack, Boyd would have Scott. I’m being serious.” He added as she huffed out a laugh through another sniffle.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know Lydia and Jackson have been having similar arguments. And probably every other couple in our year. But it’s totally fine for you not to go to college you know. No one can make you go, it’s not right for everyone. Sometimes I question if I even want to go.” He admitted, thinking back to his own sleepless nights, fretting over what the future had in store.

“You kidding me? Your brain is practically made for college Stiles.”

“Maybe. But part of me still wants to be a cop, follow in my dad’s footsteps and what not.”

“My dad was a mechanic.”

“Can’t imagine it. Knocking someone out with a car battery, now _that_ I can imagine.”

Erica chuffed a laugh, fingers gripping tight briefly into the loose fabric of his sweatshirt. “Sorry about that.”

“Eh, you won me over with that cake you made for my birthday. You’re my Catwoman, there’s no way I can stay upset with you.”

“Thanks Stiles.” Erica said softly. He continued to rock her backwards and forwards for a few minutes as they fell into an easy silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle and hard sob from Erica.

“You’ve gotta do what’s best for you, you know that right? Just like Boyd’s gotta do what’s best for him. If he wants to go to college, great!”

“Everyone’s gonna be leaving. Lydia’s thinking Oxford. That’s not even in the same country!”

“We’ll always have Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and Spring break, and summer. Plus we can Skype. Where does Boyd want to go?”

“He wants to stay close, definitely somewhere on the West Coast.”

“That’s fine.” Stiles breathed out, running his hands through his hair again, careful of any knots. “You thought about moving out with him? He could apply for a scholarship or a loan or something, you guys could get a small apartment somewhere, you could find a job if you don’t want to go to college. Hell, if you change your mind you can do online courses, or part-time courses or something. Just because you don’t do it now doesn’t mean you can’t do it later.” He advised.

“I didn’t think about that.” Erica huffed as she lent back, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her hoody. Stiles let his arms fall away, taking her hands in his and rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands. He smiled softly, letting her think things through.

“I should go talk to him.” She said after a minute, wiping her eyes again.

“You guys will be fine, you know. There’s no reason to worry. You guys were practically made for each other.”

“How do you and Derek do it?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Me…and Derek?” Stiles stammered, confused as to where she was going with this.

He felt her nod into his shoulder, the frazzled strands of her hair brushing lightly over his skin. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“Well, usually whenever we fight, he’s being an overprotective, stubborn Worrywolf, and I’m always right, so. But we both know where the other one is coming from really, so we understand whenever we’re yelling at each other for jumping in front of bullets.” He shrugged, letting out a small laugh at the number of times they’ve had the same recycled argument over and over again.

“He’s being overprotective because he loves you.”

Stiles startled, eyes doing a double-take as he looked at Erica, surprised to see such sincerity in her eyes, like she thought what she was saying was the truth.

“Wh-what?” He stammered, his brain taking longer than normal to process what she was saying.

“Shit. He hasn’t said it yet. I’m sorry Stiles, I thought he’d told you already. You guys just seemed like you were there, you know? Shit. Don’t freak out.” She told him, worrying away her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I should go. Thanks for the advice Stiles.” She smacked a large and loud kiss to his cheek, bringing part of his brain back online. “I have a man to win over. Don’t freak out. Go talk to your boyfriend.” She finished, standing up with an ease Stiles could never have, before darting out the door, throwing out a loud “bye” as she left Stiles sitting dumbfounded on the sofa.

“What?” He said again to no one in particular.


	4. Cora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos you guys have given this! They mean so much to me and they've been making me smile after such a crappy day! 
> 
> For some reason I really like this chapter. I think it's because I like to write Cora as the little sister that likes to make Derek's life hell and tease him constantly for everything! 
> 
> Comments, bookmarks and kudos are love!

Derek watched with a small smile as Stiles flitted backwards and forwards in front of the large wall of sweets the cinema had recently installed, his left arm already cradling a plethora of bags - from Reese’s cups to Twizzlers - like a baby as he tried to pick what else he wanted. They hadn’t even gotten to the popcorn counter yet.

“Boo!” A familiar female voice called out as his arm was effortlessly jolted, making him jump; a testament to how focused he was on his not-so subtle watching of the teenager.

With one eyebrow cocked and an inward sigh, he turned to face the newcomer. “Cora. What are you doing here?”

“Date night with Isaac. What are _you_ doing here?”

Without thinking, Derek turned to his right to the candy section of the theatre, spotting Stiles pulling down a bag of gummy bears and handing it over to a kid no older than six by his feet, hands making a familiar grabby motion that he’d seen Stiles do so often.

“Ah. No wonder you didn’t even hear me come up. Too busy making heart-eyes at your boyfriend, dork.” Cora teased, slapping the back of her hand against Derek’s bicep. His head snapped around at her words, frown settling back into place.

“We’re not dating.” He growled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Cora scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t lie to me Der.”

“I’m not lying. We’re just friends.”

Cora choked out a laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep some of the noise in. She stopped, after a minute, however, when she realised Derek was still glaring at her. “Holy shit.” She wheezed out, eyes glinting with unshed tears. “You’re telling the truth. You guys actually aren’t together.”

“No shit.” Derek grumbled, not for the first time wondering why everyone was suddenly making that assumption.

“Well what the fuck is wrong with you?” Cora exploded, slapping Derek on the chest this time, the full weight of a punch behind it. He stumbled back a step, taken by surprise at the full force of her punch. The woman in front of them turned around and glared at Cora, her furrowed brow and hard-set eyes quickly giving into surprise when Cora simply waved her off with another roll of her eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Derek said hushed, his tone still biting. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh my God. I swear, the two of you.” She motioned between him and Stiles with her index finger. “Are so oblivious sometimes, it’s unbelievable.”

“What’s unbelievable?” Isaac asked as he came up behind them, tugging his jacket back on.

“They’re oblivious.” Cora answered, almost whining as she waved a hand at Derek.

“Who?” Isaac questioned, leaning slightly to glance over Derek’s shoulder. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Stiles, and as he straightened, a teasing grin broke out on his face. “Oh yeah, they are. It hurts.” He nodded in agreement.

Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, turning his well-practiced disappointed look on the two Betas, hoping they’d scatter.

They didn’t.

“Hey guys, didn’t know you were here.” Stiles interrupted as he sauntered up to them, five bags of sweets in hand.

“We just finished the movie. Off to get dinner now.” Isaac replied, slinging an arm over Cora’s shoulder.

“What’d you see?”

“Jurassic World.” Cora replied, throwing a self-satisfied smirk at Derek when she caught Stiles leaning into Derek’s side, their shoulders brushing together just enough that only a small sliver of space was left between them.

“No spoilers!” Stiles cried out, making the woman in front of them direct her glare on him. Stiles didn’t notice.

“Promise. But you will love it.”

“Ugh. Now I’m going in there expecting to love it. You guys suck.” Stiles whined. “What?” He turned his attention to Derek who had been watching him with a raised eyebrow. “You know I hate these expectations.”

“Think you got enough sweets?” Derek said, instead, pointing to the bags in Stiles’ hands. Stiles glanced down at them, as if in consideration, before pulling out a golden bag and showing it to Derek.

“I got you gummy bears.” Stiles said in reply. Derek felt his face flush ever so slightly at the acknowledgement; no one else, apart from Cora and Peter, knew about his love for gummy bears. He didn’t even tell Stiles about it, it had all been observation.

“Oh my God,” Cora muttered as she turned on her heel and stalked off, Isaac trailing close behind.

“Bye!” Stiles called out, giving them an energetic wave at the same time.

Derek rolled his eyes as he placed his hand on the small of Stiles’ back, fingers inching close to his hip. “Come on.” He said, leading them up the queue to the popcorn stand.

From behind him, by the entrance, he heard a familiar voice call out, _“No use denying it Der, I see that hand.”_

Damn Cora.


	5. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and the bookmarks and kudos, they mean so much to me! 
> 
> I've always loved the fluff that accompanies Sick!Stiles and Caring!Derek fics, so naturally I had to write one! Enjoy!

Stiles blew his nose into a clean tissue as he waited for his game to load. His mouth was parched, his throat sore, and one nostril was blocked, whilst the other was running like it was taking part in a marathon. There was a small headache already forming at the base of his skull, his stomach felt queasy and full of liquid, and there was a pressure on his chest that made what little breathing he could do hurt. He was also coughing and hacking like there was no tomorrow.

God, Stiles hated being ill.

“Gross.” He snuffled out as he crumpled the tissue in his palm and then threw it in the trash can by his side. He was sitting on the floor of the living room, in his pyjamas, with one blanket over his legs, and another wrapped around his shoulders, waiting for _Skyrim_ to load up.

There were definitely some perks to being ill however.

He’d missed the previous day off school, having felt much worse, and it only being a Friday; and so he was spending his Saturday playing video games whilst his dad was at work and waiting for Scott to come round to keep him company.

A series of hard knocks on the front door drew his attention away from the slow loading screen, but the pattern told him he didn’t need to get up.

“Yeah?” He called out, the words sounding garbled and deeper to his own ears. The door opened and closed, and when Stiles turned to look at the entryway into the living room, Derek was draping his leather jacket over the back of the sofa as he toed his boots off.

“How you feeling?” Derek asked once he had kicked his boots out of the way.

“Ugh.” Stiles replied, hanging his head in defeat to indicate just how unwell he was feeling.

“You sound better than yesterday.” Derek stated as he came up to him, and it was only then that Stiles noticed the white paper bag in his hands. “I picked up some more medicine, and some soup.” He added as he handed the bag over.

“Thank you.” Stiles mumbled out, taking the bag and dropping it on the floor next to him. He shuffled forwards on his pillow on the floor, making grabby hands at Derek towering over him once he found a new spot.

Derek let out a fond huff as he rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow from the couch and placing it on the floor behind Stiles. Gracefully, he sat down, stretching his legs out so they were on either side of Stiles, and gently pulled him back against his chest. Stiles moaned at the heat suddenly at his back, knowing that in a few hours he’d be too hot and sweaty, but right now he was cold and hoping he could just sweat the cold off. Derek wouldn’t mind. Stiles shuffled a little more to get in a more comfortable position, leaning on Derek’s chest, legs stretched out in front of him as his game loaded in.

Derek grabbed Stiles’ battered copy of _'The Hobbit'_ left on the sofa, folding the corner of the page down to mark Stiles’ spot before flicking to the beginning, even though he’d read it before, as his other hand looped under Stiles’ right arm, resting on his belly.

Three hours later, a series of quick knocks resounded on the front door. Derek raised his eyes from the book and sniffed out the newcomer.

“Door’s open Scott.” He said quietly, not wanting to disturb Stiles. Scott, for all his subtly, opened the door and shut it loudly behind him, the energetic 17 year old excited to see his best friend for the first time in two days bounding in with a large smile that quickly faded as his brain caught up. Derek watched with almost amusement as Scott took in the scene before him: him, with his back against the base of the sofa, with Stiles in between his legs, leaning against his chest, and fast asleep. His mouth was open, a soft snore coming out every now again, interspersed with laboured breaths, and a small, thin line of drool ran down to the side of his chin. Stiles left arm was draped over Derek’s bent legs that were keeping him caged in, the other loosely holding the controller. Derek, on the other hand, still had the book in his left hand, whilst his right was beneath Stiles’ shirt on his belly, his thumb roving over the small patch of skin comfortingly.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Scott half-whispered, cocking his head to the side like an honest to God puppy.

“I was just keeping him company. Brought him some medicine.” Derek replied with a shrug, a little confused by Scott’s perplexed face. Why was it weird to care for another member of the pack? That’s what pack does.

“Oh, well you didn’t have to do that. Mom gave me some stuff from the hospital for him.” Scott waved a paper bag in his hands, the rustle causing Stiles to stir against his chest.

“I wanted to.” Derek shrugged again, the movement jostling Stiles, who mumbled something in sleep. His eyes slowly opened as he blinked himself awake, a large yawn racking its way through his body. He shifted his head against Derek’s chest briefly, before waking up more. With a stretch, he dropped the controller on the floor, wiping away at the drool on his chin before coughing loudly.

“Scott? What? How long you been here?” Stiles asked, voice almost gone as he glanced up and realised Scott was standing in the doorway.

“Literally just arrived. How you feeling?”

“Hot. Sweaty.” Stiles replied as he sat up, smacking his mouth a few times as he rubbed his eyes. Derek’s hand on his stomach shifted to Stiles’ back as he did so, the back of his shirt drenched in sweat.

“Go shower. You’ll feel better.” Derek instructed.

Stiles nodded, not one to put up a fight when disorientated, tired and ill. “You staying for dinner?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder to look at the Alpha.

Derek shook his head. “I should get going. I still have a few errands to run.”

“Okay.” Stiles replied sleepily, letting Derek stand up first before asking him for a hand up. “Thanks Der.”

Scott watched, even more confused as Stiles disappeared up the stairs without another word. He turned to face Derek as the werewolf slipped his shoes and jacket back on.

“Make sure he eats. There’s soup in the bag.” Derek said, before disappearing out the door.

Half an hour later, Stiles was slumped in the dining chair, waiting for Scott to finish heating up his soup, playing _Candy Crush_ on his phone.

“Dude. You know you can tell me anything right?” Scott’s voice broke him out of his concentration.

Stiles glanced up briefly. “Yeah, I know.”

“So - why didn’t you tell me?” Scott asked a little sheepishly, a hint of hurt in his tone.

“Tell you what?” Stiles asked, fist bumping as he cleared the level.

“About you and Derek?”

Stiles froze, looking up from his phone at Scott, eyebrows drawn and mouth open wide. “What?”

“You know, I’m totally fine with you and Derek dating. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I’m your bro! Were you worried I’d be pissed or something?” Scott hurried out, desperate to get his point across.

Stiles didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but his brain was doing neither. He couldn’t even get his mouth to close. “Derek and I aren’t dating!” He squeaked out eventually.

“What?” Scott asked incredulously, his face doing something weird too quickly that Stiles couldn’t decipher.

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped by his phone ringing in his hand, the screen flashing too brightly to his oversensitive eyes as it brought up the name. **‘Dad’**.

Stiles supressed a sigh. Great timing.


	6. Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much from the bottom of my heart for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos you guys have given this fic! I say it all the time but it really does mean a lot to me, you have no idea! 
> 
> This chapter is short and sweet, and I hope you enjoy it! I really liked writing it, but then again I just like writing in general! :P

From where he was crouched, low behind a dark green thicket, Derek kept a close eye on Stiles pacing the wide clearing, baseball bat loose in one hand as he nervously bit at the thumb nail of the other. The half-moon shone down through the canopy above, illuminating just enough of the clearing to stop Derek from abandoning the plan and waiting with him.

 _Bait_.

Derek growled, low in his throat as he remembered the pack almost unanimously voting for Stiles being bait for the Lamia currently terrorizing the city. God he hated the idea, had tried to be so adamant about finding another plan, but Stiles wouldn’t have it. Derek knew he couldn’t in any way shape or form stop Stiles from helping, but that didn’t mean he had to be one hundred percent happy with all the plans the teenager came up with.

God, if something happened to him...

A soft touch, a brush of warm fingertips on his clenched fist brought him out of his worries, his tight jaw loosening slightly as Derek turned to his companion. Allison was crouched next to him, hair tied up in a simple pony tail leaving the worry in her brow evident.

“He’ll be alright, you know.” She barely whispered, a reassuring smile on her lips.

Derek grit his teeth, unable to stop the fresh spike of worry rushing through his gut at the possibility that he might _not_ be. He nodded anyway, before turning back to watch Stiles.

“I know what it’s like, you know. Watching someone you love risk their lives, not knowing whether they’re going to make it out or not, feeling useless as you watch them; wanting to stop them, tell them someone else can do it, but knowing deep down that you can’t. And I know for a fact Stiles feels the same way whenever he has to watch you risk your life and he can’t do anything. But he’ll be alright.” Allison reassured, keeping her gaze flitting around the edges of the clearing, checking the perimeter.

Derek nodded again, fists clenching and loosening as he tried to keep himself battle-ready. It was only when he thought over what Allison said that he stopped, his brain coming to a complete halt.

 _‘Someone you love’_.

God, did she think they were dating as well?

“Allison. You know Stiles and I aren’t dating, right?” Derek said carefully, voice low.

“What?” She whipped her head around to look at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. She opened her mouth to say more, but was cut off by a deafening cry coming from the copse of trees to their right. From inside the clearing, Stiles froze, his heartbeat doubling and skipping loudly in Derek's ears as he gripped his bat tightly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he waited for the Lamia to break through the clearing.

At the first sight of the half-woman, half-creature on the edge of the treeline, Derek threw their carefully and thoroughly thought out plan out the window, not wanting to risk the smallest chance that the Lamia would attack and beat them to Stiles. He burst over from behind the thicket, already in his Beta shift as he came to a protective stance in front of Stiles. He snarled at the woman, eyes flaring red as he felt a soft pressure of a warm hand at the small of his back, letting him know that Stiles was fine, that he had his back.

The Lamia wasted no time, seeing the arrival of a much bigger predator as a threat, and launched herself across the clearing, heading straight for Derek’s throat.

Derek reacted with a near-feral growl and quickly fought back, not wasting any time waiting for the rest of the pack to react. There was no way she was coming anywhere near Stiles. Not whilst he was still standing.

 


	7. Jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much from the bottom of my heart for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks, they've helped me get through a really crappy week, so to see the response this fic has gotten has been making me smile! If I could give each and every one of you a cupcake from Primrose Bakery in London, I would. (Seriously, look them up if you've never had them before, they are amazing!) 
> 
> This one is short and sweet again, but I could not imagine Jackson's going any other way! 
> 
> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks! :D

Stiles sighed loudly as he shoved the last of his books in his bag, trying to avoid being jostled by the stampede of students making their way to the exit, desperate to get their weekend started. Scott and Allison had already disappeared, wanting to get to Scott’s quickly to start studying. Which, yeah, right, “studying”. Erica, Boyd and Isaac had already disappeared off as well, and Lydia was getting in an extra hour of studying in the library whilst Jackson was getting in an extra hour of practice on the field with Danny. Which left Stiles, with no one.

Technically, he could wait around for an hour and get a lift with Jackson and Lydia, but having his teeth pulled out without anaesthetic would be more preferable. So instead, he was left with walking home.

It’d take a couple of hours, at least.

His poor baby had broken down the day before. The extra money he’d been spending on gas running around the town protecting it and driving those of the more furry disposition around had meant that now, he didn’t have any money for the repairs Roscoe so badly needed. He didn’t want to ask his dad for any more money for the repairs either, so he resigned himself to begging for lifts or walking everywhere. If only he still had his old bike.

He slammed his locker door shut, the hallway almost empty now save for the last few dwindling students. Reluctantly, he started towards the main doors, his bag already heavy and weighing down on his shoulders. He’d probably have back ache by the time he got home.

Soft sunlight streamed down on the school grounds, the air warm despite the clouds lingering overhead, already starting to move over the sun. Darker than forecasted, Stiles hoped it wouldn’t rain on his way back, although, knowing his luck...

“Stilinski!” Jackson’s voice called out from the side of the building as he approached, already decked out in his lacrosse gear, stick in hand. Stiles didn’t even respond as Jackson continued talking. “Your boyfriend’s here to pick you up.” He said, no ounce of teasing evident in his voice.

Struck by the surprise of such a sentence, Stiles missed the first step leading down to the parking lot and stumbled, barely managing to keep his balance as he all but fell down the stairs. His heart beat ratcheted up several notches at the sudden fall, his brain screaming in panic, sure that he’d been about to crack his head open or snap his neck or break his ankle.

By the time he was standing up on two, albeit shaky, legs, and his brain was slowly coming back online, Jackson’s words echoed in his mind. He turned around and opened his mouth to yell something, to ask Jackson what the hell he was going on about, but the Beta was nowhere to be seen.

“What?” He muttered, eyes casting about the grounds, trying to spot the recognisable face among a sea of strangers.

“You okay?” A familiar voice asked from behind him, a hint of teasing and playfulness in his tone.

Brow furrowed, Stiles turned back and hiked his bag further up his shoulders, coming face to face with Derek standing two feet away from him, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the beginnings of a soft smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“Yeah. Just. Yeah. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me there are pixies in the preserve again. I swear, after last time - “

“There aren’t any pixies in the preserve.” Derek huffed, rolling his eyes. Which, hey. It was a totally justified reaction, Stiles hated pixies. “You said your car broke down. I’m giving you a ride.” Derek tacked on.

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” Stiles replied, trying desperately not to think about what Jackson had said as he followed Derek to the Camaro. He had most definitely been mocking Stiles. Even if he didn’t sound like it.

He’d talk to him about it later.

"You want to go to Hattie's?" Derek asked as he started up the car, the engine rumbling and purring beneath them.

Stiles moaned, his mouth already watering at the thought of those delicious curly fries and burgers in his mouth. "Dude, yes."

Derek's lips widened into a large smile as he slipped his sunglasses on, before peeling out of parking lot and heading back into town.

All thoughts of Jackson disappeared from Stiles' mind within seconds.


	8. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best, I swear to God. I know I said it yesterday, and probably several other times this past week, but thank you so much for all the love this fic has gotten. It's really helped get me through my crappy week and waking up to all your comments just makes the day a little brighter, so thank you so much! :) 
> 
> I love this chapter for various reasons, I loved writing Peter, and I love Stiles and Derek's interactions in this chapter. All the cuddles.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m dying. This is it. This is the end of the line. I’m dead. Done for. Tell my dad I love him. Tell Scott I love him. Delete my internet history. Promise me Der. Promise me you’ll do it.” Stiles wheezed as he dragged himself up the stairs in a crawl.

From a few steps above him, Derek turned around, one eyebrow risen. “You’re not dying.”

“How do you know? When was the last time...No wait, don’t answer that.” Stiles stuttered out, leaning against the wall for support. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple and under his jaw, before dripping onto the loose collar of his shirt.

“Maybe if you put more energy into walking and less into talking.” Derek advised teasingly.

Stiles levelled a glare at him. “Screw you. We can’t all be creatures of the night. You’re not even winded, asshole.”

“I work out more.” Derek replied, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smirk.

“I play lacrosse!” Stiles exclaimed waving his hands about emphatically.

Derek didn’t reply. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and rose his other eyebrow, both of them now sitting high on his forehead. He fought back the urge to laugh, knowing it would only spur Stiles on into a heated rant.

“Wow, low blow dude.” Stiles murmured, lips pulling downwards into a pout as he clearly understood what Derek was hinting at.

“Come on. One more flight to go.”

“You can carry me.” Stiles announced, mouth widening in a familiar shit-eating grin. Derek rolled his eyes hard, before turning on his heel and beginning the ascent again. “Dude, seriously? The least you could do is wait.” Stiles whined, even as he started hauling himself up the stairs.

Derek waited outside the loft, left shoulder leaning against the door as he watched with a playful smirk as Stiles dragged himself up the last couple of steps, already wheezing breaths again.

“You said you wanted to train more.” Derek recalled, a lilt to his voice that made Stiles glare at him again.

“Yeah, I said ‘ _train’_. Not _‘die’_. You didn’t have to run me into the ground.”

“You could’ve asked to stop.”

“I was fine! You just need to live somewhere without seven thousand steps. Or at least an elevator. Seriously. Think of the weak here.” Stiles complained, stumbling over the last step. He ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair, leaving it sticking up in every direction.

“I thought you hated being called weak?”

“Let me milk this, Der.” Stiles pleaded, shoulders dropped in defeat. Derek smirked as he slid open the loft, stopping short almost immediately at the sight of Peter reading on the couch, looking like he belonged there, so clearly pretending he hadn’t heard the two of them coming up. “Ugh, if he has his own place, why is he here?” Stiles groaned once he had stepped up to Derek’s side.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen these windows? And the roof space? Please. My place, although more furnished, and without holes in the walls, has nothing on this view.” Peter commented wryly, glancing up from his book. “You smell like a pig sty.”

“You’re not so pleasant yourself.” Stiles bit back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’m going to shower.” He added, unconsciously brushing his fingertips against Derek’s hip as he walked past, heading for the spiral staircase. His eyes narrowed at Peter as he passed, almost assessing the former Alpha for more hidden agendas.

“What are you doing here Peter?” Derek sighed out as he shrugged off his slightly sweat-stained t-shirt.

“What kind of day and age is this where an uncle can’t just visit his nephew without a reason?” Peter questioned sarcastically.

Derek threw out a mocking smirk over his shoulder as he pulled on a worn, olive green Henley, Stiles’ scent washing over his nose as he breathed in. Apparently the teenager had worn it recently.

“So” Peter started again. “Things seem to be going well between the two of you.”

Derek rose an eyebrow.

“Well, if your scents mixed together in here, and on your clothes, are anything to go by, I mean. It’s good.” Peter stood up, following Derek into the kitchen area.

“We’re not together.” Derek commented dryly, his head in the fridge as he rooted through the plethora of Stiles’ Red Bull bottles for the OJ he kept in the back.

“Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me. _Did_ fool me.” Peter replied, ever so calmly.

Derek stopped his rummaging as Peter’s tone echoed in his mind. He straightened up and turned to face his uncle, eyes hardening as he crossed his arms.

“What are you planning?” He asked bluntly, not caring for any subtleties.

“Planning? Nothing. _‘Knowing’_? That’s another thing entirely.” Peter smirked.

“Peter.” Derek growled out, itching to let a sliver of his control loose so he could flash his eyes.

“What do you know about ‘mates’, Derek?”

The question took Derek by surprise; mouth opening slightly to growl or answer, but his brain seemed to be having difficulty catching up. Mates were a myth that much he knew. A fairy tale his mother used to tell them all when they were kids as bedtime stories.

“I’m just saying. You should do some reading, and some _‘claiming’_. And soon.” Peter advised, cryptically. “But I’m glad things, whatever is going on between the two of you, are good. You need that Derek.” He added, and he almost sounded sincere. Derek was left stumped; he hadn’t heard Peter say anything sincerely in almost eight years.

By the time his brain eventually caught up with Peter’s words, the former Alpha was gone. In his place, the familiar tired slump of Stiles’ bare feet hit the spiral staircase as he descended from the upstairs bathroom, freshly showered and oozing exhaustion. He wore a pair of Derek’s faded grey sweatpants and an old Henley, loose on his lithe frame. He collapsed on the sofa, legs sprawled out in front of him as he pawed for the remote control, flicking the TV onto some crap that Isaac had no doubt been watching last.

Derek grabbed his glass of OJ and a bottle of cold Red Bull before joining him in the living area. He handed Stiles his drink, placing his on the coffee table, before half-picking Stiles up. So used to being manhandled, Stiles went pliant in Derek’s hold, letting the Alpha sit down in the middle of the couch, before almost draping Stiles over him. He was half-turned into the werewolf, legs draping over Derek’s so his feet were in between his legs, and head resting on his shoulder, tucking himself under Derek’s chin. Derek’s arms came around Stiles, his left hand resting on the curve of his hip, and his right resting on the middle of his thigh, holding him close.

“Where’d Peter go?” Stiles asked, sleepily, his heartbeat already evening out.

“Left.” Derek muttered, pointedly not thinking about Peter’s words as he turned his head towards Stiles, pressing his nose into his hair and inhaling deeply.

“What’d he want?”

“With Peter? Who knows?” Derek half-shrugged, turning the sound down on the TV.

“I hope you know I’m not moving, like ever. You broke me Hale. Prepare to deal with the consequences.” Stiles said after a few minutes where Derek had been convinced he’d fallen asleep. He chuckled, running the fingertips of his left hand up Stiles’ bare arm softly. Stiles shivered at the touch and leaned in closer to Derek’s chest, his right hand falling to Derek’s hip in a bruising grasp.

“I’m not carrying you.” Derek replied.

“Fucker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun little tidbit: the little non-comment Derek made with his eyebrows when Stiles said he played lacrosse, was Derek teasing him about being a bench-warmer, hence Stiles "low blow".


	9. The Sheriff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are seriously the best, without a doubt. Thank you so much for all the comments you've been leaving, they've been making me giggle and laugh and smile all day, and waking up to them has been wonderful! Also, thank you for all the bookmarks and the kudos and even just the number of hits, its astounding, and I still can't believe people are actually reading my fics, so thank you! 
> 
> And now, for even more fluff! Because why the heck not?

Stiles woke with an inward groan, his eyes blinking open blearily and slowly against the pale, early morning light filtering in through the windows to the side. He swore he had never felt as comfortable in bed as he did right at this moment. His pillow was at the perfect angle, plumped just enough so it cushioned both his head and his neck. His body was completely relaxed, limbs partially askew under the thick covers that were pulled up to his cheek, almost cocooning him. He was warm, just enough that it didn’t leave him sweaty or feeling disgusting; and right now nothing sounded better than just rolling over and going back to sleep.

A soft snuffle at the side of his neck alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone, and after that he quickly recognised the feeling of a large, hot hand on the flat of his stomach under his shirt. The calloused pads of fingertips scratched lightly over his skin; and much further down, a hairy leg brushed up against his calf where his pyjama pants had ridden up during the night.

Stiles turned his head over to see his bed companion, a content smirk rising on his lips when his brain caught up.

Stiles bit back on the quiet chuckle that almost bubbled its way out of his throat at the sight Derek made; jet black hair, usually perfectly coiffed, now a mess, half flattened against the top of his head, the other half sticking up and outwards. His mouth was open slightly, an almost child-like snuffle escaping out from between his lips on every inhale, the barest hint of his bunny teeth poking out from under his top lip. His face was relaxed, open and somewhat _vulnerable_ , making him look even younger than the twenty-four year old he was.

He looked better than he had done the night before, rolling in through his window when the full moon reached its peak, barely keeping his wolf in check. He had passed out on Stiles’ bed before they even had a proper conversation; not that it wasn’t exactly new for them to share a bed.

For a brief second, Stiles mentally debated curling in towards the Alpha’s chest even more and settling back down to go to sleep, not caring if he was late to school instead of getting up; but before either option won out, a disgustingly chipper tone emanated from his vibrating phone, his alarm coming to life. 

The noise grated against Stiles’ ears, making him wince as he tried to disentangle himself from the werewolf’s tight, and sleepy grip to reach over his body and grab his phone on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. Still partially asleep, Derek grumbled and burrowed himself further into the bed, trying to wrap himself completely around Stiles.

Dropping his now quiet phone on the bed next to him, Stiles subjected himself to the torture of being fully awake, and peeled himself out of Derek’s hold. He climbed out of bed soundlessly, grabbing a vaguely clean set of clothes from the floor on his way out to the bathroom, leaving the Alpha to his sleep.

Stiles bypassed the bedroom after his shower, intent on grabbing his bag after he’d had breakfast. Almost missing the last step, he turned the corner into the kitchen, and stopped short when he saw his father sitting at the small, oval table, peering over a case file with an intent look on his face.

“Dad.” Stiles said, a hint of suspicion in his tone as he edged further into the kitchen, heading straight for the cereal cupboard.

“Stiles.” His father replied in an equally similar tone. “Want to tell me why there’s a twenty-four year old werewolf in your bed?” He asked, the lilt in his tone suggesting something that Stiles didn’t want to think about.

Shocked, Stiles dropped the box of Lucky Charms in his hand on the counter top, before stumbling over his own feet as he turned to face his father, jaw dropped wide.

“Because you know this means we’re going to have to have a talk right, all three of us. It’s not that I don’t trust Derek, because I do, and I’m glad you two have finally stopped dancing around each other, but really Stiles? On a school night? Whilst I’m in the house? And there’s still the matter of him being six years older than you.” His father explained quickly, voice stern as he pointed a finger at Stiles.

Stiles’ mind raced as he tried to keep up with everything his father was saying, but eventually all he could reply with was, “What!? Dad, what are you talking about?”

“You and Derek. What do you think I’m talking about?”

“I - I -” Stiles stammered, running a hand through his messy hair, “I’m so confused.”

“Kid, you know I’m fine with this whole thing right? Were you worried I wouldn’t be? Was that why you didn’t tell me, because you thought I wouldn’t approve of you and Derek being together?”

Stiles shook his head, clearing his mind of all the conflicting thoughts and the confusion as tried to focus on what the older Stilinski was saying. “Dad. Derek and I aren’t together.” Stiles explained, voice suddenly hoarse with tiredness.

“You don’t have to lie to me anymore, Stiles.”

“Dad, I’m not lying! Derek and I really aren’t dating. We’re just friends. Besides, you’d know if I was dating anyone, trust me.”

It was the Sheriff’s turn to shake his head this time, clearly trying to process this new turn of events. “But, why did I walk in on him in your bed? That’s not normal friend behaviour, Stiles. You were literally one person, I couldn’t tell where you ended and where he began.”

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up at the image his father created, embarrassed that they’d been seen curled into each other so much. “Derek finds it easier to be with pack on the full moon, so he crashes with me. But that’s it; nothing happens I swear, we just sleep.” Stiles placated with his hands held out in surrender at seeing his father beginning to argue back about them sleeping together.

“Why not just do a pack night at the loft, get everyone together?” The Sheriff shrugged behind his cup of coffee.

“It’s not really advisable. They can get really possessive during the full moon, one person does something wrong and all of a sudden it’s World War Three. Accidents, you know? It’s just easier to be separate.” Stiles replied, wincing slightly at the memory of Derek hauling Erica off the sofa with an angry growl when she tried to sit next to Stiles the night of a full moon a few months back. Derek had been weirdly possessive for a week after that. 

Stiles didn't want to know.

“How did Derek cope before? He can’t be having too much of an issue.” The Sheriff questioned, stacking his mug on top of his breakfast plate.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. I never really asked. All Derek told me was that he was having trouble staying in control one full moon and it helped to be near pack. He’s been coming round ever since.”

“So, this isn’t the first time he’s slept in your bed?” The Sheriff asked with a teasing grin on his lips, eyebrows raised.

Stiles let out a long, drawn out sigh as he closed his eyes in disbelief at having revealed that snippet of information. This was so not a good idea to mention how Stiles frequently slept in Derek’s bed whenever the Sheriff had a late shift.

“Maybe?” Stiles replied, hoping his father wouldn’t say anything else.

“Well,” The Sheriff started with a huff as he stood up, “at least I know he’s not a murderer. And that he knows I have a wolfsbane bullets.”

“Dad!” Stiles admonished, hoping beyond all hope that Derek was still fast asleep. Unlikely as it was.

The Sheriff waved him off. “Hey, it’s my prerogative as a father, and as a law enforcement official, to say these things. He knows I can make a murder look like an accident. But the same goes for you. You hurt him, we’re going to have words. Very strong words.” The Sheriff said sternly, pointing a finger at Stiles. “As long as you’re safe.”

“Oh my God, Dad, for the last time, we’re not dating!” Stiles argued with a roll of his eyes.

The Sheriff hummed, feigning agreement, like he thought Stiles was denying it. “Whatever you say son. Tell Derek to use the front door next time. I’ll see you later.”

And with a quick wave of his hand, the Sheriff walked out, leaving Stiles standing in the kitchen, head buried in his hands, unsure of whether to cry or laugh, until Derek came down, still bleary eyed and half asleep, looking for coffee.

Somehow, he had slept through the whole conversation.


	10. Melissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, you guys are seriously the best, you have no idea. This past week and a half has been super tough for me, but getting all your wonderful comments about this fic has just been incredible, and they've been giving me a reason to laugh and smile and just generally be happy about things, even during the really hard moments, so just from the bottom of my heart thank you so much, you really have no idea how much it all means to me and I could never thank you enough, I swear! So, just thank you for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos and hits again!
> 
> Going to add a little warning here: if any of you are like me, and are complete saps who cry at the slightest little emotional moment in books or movies or tv shows, then I'm sorry for this next chapter. I almost cried during it, and I wrote the freaking thing! But, saying that, it is one of my favourites. Mama McCall is one of my favourite minor characters, and I love writing her, especially with either Stiles or Derek!

Derek growled as he stabbed the button on the vending machine repeatedly, hoping that if he did it enough times, it’d spit out what could just pass as coffee. Nothing happened. In a fit of rage, his eyes flashed as he slammed the button with the palm of his hand, pushing it all the way in with no sign of popping back out again.

Great. Now he’d broken the stupid thing.

Before he could punch his fist through the machine, a small, warm hand rested over his, with another gently being placed on his shoulder. He turned to face the newcomer, un-surprised to see Melissa’s comforting smile next to him.

“You know there’s a trick to this machine? Here, try this.” She said, pushing him to the side gently. He watched as she keyed in a series of numbers, coffee beginning to flow down from the funnel and into the paper cup. She picked it up and handed it to him when it finished. “It’s an old machine.” She shrugged, as if it would explain everything.

“Thanks.” Derek choked out, taking a tentative sip of the hot drink.

“Come on. Come sit down for a minute.” She placed a hand on his bicep, coaxing him towards a secluded table in the cafeteria.

“I should get back.” Derek started, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the door behind him.

“Two minutes, Derek. That’s all I ask. Scott and John are with him, he’ll be fine.” Melissa said, tugging on his arm a little harder.

Derek hesitated. Part of him, the majority of him, was desperate to get back to Stiles, even if he was still unconscious. Just to make sure he was okay, to keep an eye on him, be there when he woke up. The other part of him, however, knew that Melissa would never let Derek go without being appeased, and the quicker he got this over with...

He relaxed his shoulders and motioned for her to go first, following her to the small, wobbly table.

“You know he’s going to be alright, Derek, don’t you?” Melissa started quietly as soon as they sat down, resting a hand on his.

He nodded as he glared at the coffee cup, his thumb running over the lip to keep himself from jittering in uncertainty.

“Stiles, unfortunately, has a penchant for pushing everyone to their breaking point with worry before letting us know he’s fine. You know when he was twelve, just after Claudia died, I took him and Scott out to the park one day when John was working, and you know what happened?”

Derek glanced up, unable to stop himself seeming completely interested in the story.

“I lost him. I looked down to put the straw in Scott’s juice box for, not even a minute, and the next thing I know, Stiles is nowhere to be seen. I freaked out, I was running around the park, screaming for him for god knows how long. Scott was crying because he thought Stiles had run away, I was about two minutes away from calling the Sheriff’s department, and you know what Stiles did?”

Derek shook his head, utterly transfixed in what Melissa was saying.

“He just strolled up to me, and asked why I’m crying in the middle of the park.” Melissa exclaims, unable to keep the smile off her face. “And to top it all off, he had two small bouquets of flowers he picked, one for me, and one for his father, because that’s what John used to do when Claudia was upset, and he wanted to cheer him up.”

Derek choked out a laugh, torn between chuckling at Stiles’ apparent obliviousness to Melissa’ panic, and almost crying from the overwhelming sadness at Stiles not fully understanding why John was sad. In the end, Derek was left with the desperate need to curl around Stiles and protect him.

“I almost yelled at him. But seeing that little boy, clutching those flowers like a life line and looking at me with such happiness, for the first time in months, I couldn’t do it. I think I hugged him until he got all embarrassed.”

Derek did chuckle at that.

“All I’m saying is, Stiles, by no fault of his own, makes people worry about him. He just wants everyone to be happy, and he’d do anything for the people he loves. He’s like you in a way, he’s very protective over those he holds dear.”

Derek nodded, unsure of what to say now that the tone of their conversation had gotten sombre again.

“But he is going to be fine. The docs only put him in an induced sleep to make sure he heals properly, that’s all. Nothing was broken, there was no internal bleeding, just a few bumps and bruises.”

 _And the giant scratch marks on his chest from the harpy_ , Derek added silently, berating himself once more for letting Stiles get hurt.

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek.” Melissa said, like she could read his thoughts. “You know Stiles is stubborn. Once he has his mind set on something, that’s it. There’s no changing it. I’m just glad, now, there’s one more person to stop him from hurting himself all the time.”

“To be honest, I don’t think even that would keep him one hundred percent safe.” Derek replied, cocking an eyebrow.

Melissa barked out a laugh, the corner of her eyes crinkling ever so slightly. “That’s a fair point.” She said, shaking her head fondly. “You know, I know I never really said anything, and I know the two of you have been playing it quiet all this time. Sometimes I think it’s nicer that way, having such a big...pack, like you do now, you get to keep some things private. But I am happy that the two of you finally stopped dancing around each other. You’ve always made a good team, the two of you, and I know you make each other happy, and that you’ll both do whatever it takes to protect the other one. But I’m really glad the two of you have each other. So, you have my support, and my blessing. Even though you didn’t need them to begin with. Just, know that.” Melissa said, giving Derek that private, motherly smile he hadn’t received in almost a decade.

He sat there, lost for words as his brain tried to process what Melissa had been implying. Sure, Derek knew that he and Stiles made a good team; their attitudes and personalities counter-acting each others just enough where they occasionally butted heads and bickered, yet their underlying passion and protectiveness drew them towards the same goal; but was Melissa implying what he thought she was implying?

Just as Derek opened his mouth to say something, possibly correct her on the nature of his relationship with Stiles (they were friends, close friends, possibly even - or at least, for Derek - best friends, but nothing more), a familiar heartbeat and the loud slap of sneakers screeched on the linoleum floor, skidding around the corner of the cafeteria. Scott bounded up to them, more wired and energetic than Derek had seen him be since Stiles had been admitted three days ago, a wide, almost euphoric smile on his face, and his eyes lit up.

“He’s awake! Stiles! He’s awake!” Scott exclaimed, bright eyes darting between Melissa and Derek as he bounced from foot to foot.

And well, all thoughts of correcting Melissa flew out the window. Derek had a new priority.

 _Stiles_.


	11. Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments you guys have been leaving this fic! You are all wonderful and you make me smile every day! :) Also thank you to everyone leaving kudos and bookmarking, even just reading this! It still amazes me!
> 
> I love this chapter so much, I think it's definitely my favourite of the whole fic, so I really hope you guys like it too! :)

Derek sighed as he glanced down at his wrist again, twisting his arm ever so slightly to get a better look. He couldn’t believe he was here, again, handcuffed to the bench just outside the Sheriff’s office. He knew he could probably break his way out of the handcuffs, had done before actually, when Stiles had been playing around with them and accidentally handcuffed the two of them together; but it wasn’t something he, or the Sheriff, would like to then explain to everyone else. Besides, he figured it wouldn’t give him any brownie points with the older Stilinski, seeing as following his arrest he was down a few.

On the bench next to him, Chris straightened his back and sat against the wall, his own handcuffed arms hanging by his legs. He could probably break out of them as well, but for the same reason as Derek, chose not to.

They’d been staking out an abandoned house on the outskirts of town after Chris had heard rumours of a couple of code-less hunters using it as a base, and it had been going well; they’d gotten a glimpse of one of the hunters, who Chris had had previous acquaintances with, but before they could find out who the other one was, the police arrived, and when they couldn’t come up with a plausible excuse to just be sitting in a darkened car on the street for several hours, they’d been taken in.

Derek couldn’t exactly fault the deputy, even he had to admit they were being suspicious. Besides, she was a rookie, and the Sheriff couldn’t exactly tell everyone to always let the two of them off the hook. Hell, he didn’t even do that for Stiles.

“Looks like your boyfriend’s here to bail you out.” Chris said lowly, bringing Derek out of his reverie as he glanced towards the main door. Derek followed his gaze, cursing inwardly when he caught Stiles strolling in, dressed in a pair of Derek’s sweatpants and one of his Henley’s, his statement red hoody hanging off one shoulder. His hair was a mess, standing up in every direction like he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and yet smugness rolled off the teenager in waves. Their eyes caught as Stiles made his way past, glinting mischievously at Derek.

“Wait, what?” Derek asked as soon as Stiles disappeared behind the door, Chris’ words only just registering.

Chris didn’t say anything, instead he just raised an eyebrow as his lips tugged up into a smirk.

“We’re not dating.” Derek huffed out, resting his head against the glass window with a muffled _thump_.

“My mistake. I just figured…” Chris shrugged as he trailed off.

Derek cast his gaze sideways, not even bothering to turn his head as he raised an eyebrow, mutely telling the hunter to keep going.

“Allison made a comment about the two of you being together. I just assumed.” Chris shrugged again.

“They’ve all been doing that lately.” Derek muttered, more to himself than to Chris. The main door opened once more, the creak of un-oiled hinges drawing their attention. This time, it was Allison who strode through, dressed in an old grey jumper with teal sleeves and a depiction of _‘Ariel’_ on the front, and a pair of dark blue sweatpants, her hair tied up in a messy high bun. She cast a steely, almost disapproving glare on the two of them, and not for the first time, Derek was glad that she had minimal sway over him, before she too disappeared into the Sheriff’s office.

“She never used to give me that look.” Chris mused wistfully.

Derek didn’t say anything; instead, he just waited for the teasing to begin. He closed his eyes and kept one ear on the conversation going on in the room behind him out of habit, wincing when he heard a loud, almost raucous familiar laugh. The other he kept on Stiles’ heartbeat, loud in the relatively empty station, somewhat calming to his otherwise wired senses. So used to the noise of Stiles’ heart when he had his eyes closed, he found himself close to drifting off, before the office door opened harshly, jolting him back to reality.

Stiles stepped out first, mirth in his eyes as they met with Derek’s. He felt his face slip into the easy scowl as he sat up straight, palms grasping the edge of the bench as he tensed his jaw. Stiles hid what could only be the mother of all shit-eating grins behind a hand, the other crossed over his stomach and resting under his bent elbow. He watched, standing over Derek, like he was considering him.

“So I hear you’re back to your creeper ways then Der? Sitting in dark cars outside old lady’s homes at two in the morning?” Stiles tsked with a smile, rocking back and forth on his feet, clearly enjoying the show.

“Stiles.” Derek growled, letting his eyes flash that vibrant red.

“I’m just saying Derek, it’s totally okay with me if you wanna sit out some woman’s house for hours on end. Just don’t be too conspicuous.” Stiles lent forward slightly, whispering as he handed out advice.

His eyes shone brilliantly with laughter in the artificial, harsh glare of the station, and God, times like this Derek wished he kept up with manhandling Stiles against walls, or at least being a little harsher. He’d think twice about teasing Derek so much.

Maybe.

“Stiles. Get me out of here.” Derek growled lowly, jolting his arms until the handcuffs clanged against the metal bar under the bench.

“Yeah, alright. Spoilsport.” Stiles motioned to one of the deputies, chuckling softly under his breath as he stepped to the side. Allison came out the station them, followed by a somewhat disappointed looking Sheriff.

“Don’t get caught doing that again. I really don’t want to explain to Mrs. Henderson why either of you are sitting outside her house again.” John said as the deputy unlocked one of Derek’s handcuffs. He flexed his wrist, seeing the red marks around it begin to fade.

“Sure thing Sheriff.” Chris replied as he waited his turn.

The deputy unlocked the second of Derek’s handcuffs, moving aside so Derek could stand up. Stiles shuffled in closer, winking at Derek playfully as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoody.

“Derek, I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow?” The Sheriff asked, although it booked no disagreement.

“Of course.” Derek answered, placing a hand on the small of Stiles’ back to get him moving.

“Come on Creeperwolf. You made me come out and pick you up on a Saturday night, the least you can do is get me a milkshake.” Stiles announced, saluting his father and Chris, and winking at Allison as he slipped his hands in Derek’s and half-dragged him out the station.

“Go straight home!” The Sheriff yelled at their retreating backs, even though they all knew it was pointless.

Derek let Stiles drive them to the little twenty-four diner off Main, buying three breakfast plates (pancakes, two with extra maple syrup, one with a small amount) and a decent amount of coffee for them, considering it was nearing six a.m. in the morning. They took the food home, scarfing it down on Stiles’ bed whilst the Sheriff’s plate stayed in the microwave for when he got back in a couple of hours, before falling asleep in a mess of tangled limbs, Chris’ words long since forgotten in lieu of three words echoing in Derek's brain. 

_Stiles. Safe. Home._


	12. Lydia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awh penultimate chapter guys! :( I just want to say again thank you for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos you've all been leaving this fic, it means so much to me and it makes me so happy! So thank you so much, and I'm glad you've all been enjoying this fic!

Stiles stepped into the quiet school library with a loud, almost obnoxious yawn. He had three classes left of the day, two of which he still had unfinished homework for. His plans yesterday to catch up had been side-tracked by Derek dragging him out to train more, so on top of being deathly tired and behind on his homework, he was also in a hell of a lot of pain.

He slumped into one of the chairs in the quieter corner of the library, spreading his depressing amount of work around on the table in front of him. He pulled open the first set of notes, English, and, with a defeated groan, let his head fall onto the table with a resounding and painful _thump_.

After some indeterminate time, a smaller thud echoed through the wood of the table, as a chair opposite was dragged out and a body fell gracefully into it. He glanced up, chin still resting on the table in such an awkward manner he was sure would leave him with a crick in his neck if he stayed like that any longer. His eyes fell on the tall, cardboard coffee cup by his head, before being drawn away to a familiar, smiling face opposite as she took a sip of her own drink, before glancing back down to the coffee cup, making sure that he wasn’t hallucinating. He sat up quickly, head spinning slightly as he reached for the tall cup. He sniffed it tentatively before taking a small sip, the slight sting to his tongue worth it for the strong coffee that burned down his throat, lighting up his brain like a firework.

“Oh my God. Lydia, I love you. I love you so much. What do I owe you for bringing me coffee?” Stiles groaned, taking an even bigger sip from his coffee. From across the table, Lydia’s eyes glinted in that way that meant she was happy someone was in her pocket.

“You can make that Pierogi tonight at Derek’s for us.” She suggested over her own coffee.

Stiles’ eyes squinted, his tired brain finally catching up that she had planned this. “You drive a hard bargain Martin.”

“Yes I do. Be lucky you came out with your dignity intact.”

“What did Jackson _do_?” Stiles asked, eyes narrowing once more as he lent forwards against the table.

Lydia laughed brightly. “You don’t want to know. We made a joint decision to never speak of it again, for everyone’s sake.”

“I hope you got photo evidence.” Stiles muttered, a mischievous grin growing on his face.

Lydia winked, causing Stiles to laugh loudly, attracting the unwanted attention of a couple of juniors to their right. He ignored them.

“So, something you want to tell me?” Lydia spoke up, eyes flitting down to his chest briefly. He followed her gaze subconsciously, hoping there wasn’t anything embarrassing on him.

“What?”

“You and Derek?” She hinted, shaking her head in an attempt to get him to understand. “Getting together?”

Stiles groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly. “Oh Jesus. We’re not dating Lyds.”

“What?” She scoffed as her brow furrowed.

“We’re not together. We’re just friends. We hang out a lot, yeah, but that’s it.”

Lydia’s mouth parted slightly as her eyebrows drew together in confusion. Her open mouth closed, before it opened again, words on the tip of her tongue.

“Pardon?”

“Lydia, you heard me. Derek and I? Friends. Nothing more.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! Seriously. Why is no one getting this?”

“Because the two of you don’t act like friends?” Lydia stated like it was obvious.

“We do! We hang out, you know, like friends do.” Stiles replied, one hand waving about to emphasise his point.

“You hang out?” Lydia asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, you know, we hang out at the loft or at home, and he, I don’t know, reads or watches TV whilst I work, or we watch movies.”

“Stiles.” Lydia started as she rubbed her forehead tiredly. “You’re the first person he goes to when he’s upset, or if he feels like he’s losing control. You both go apeshit on whatever it is we’re fighting if the other one gets hurt. Don’t deny it.” She cut him off with a raised hand as he opened his mouth to reply. “We’ve seen it. You bashed a kelpie’s face in when it knocked Derek back. He wasn't even hurt, just stunned. He ripped a harpy’s head clean off when it almost killed you. No hesitation. No regret. I saw him, he was so angry and so animalistic, and it was terrifying. And this is Derek we’re talking about.”

“He’s always like that when one of us gets seriously hurt.”

“Not like that he wasn’t. It was like he was, out of control or something.”

Stiles shrugged, not knowing what else to say. He understood why Derek was like that, so _animalistic_ , God he hated using that word, when one of them, him more than anyone, got hurt. Derek had lost a lot, and he knew that, for all his begrudging and rolling eyes, he did care about them and didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Besides. He takes care of you when you’re sick; he never left your side when you were unconscious in hospital a couple of months ago, even though your dad was there; he picks you up from school when your jeep breaks down; you guys go out to the movies all the time, and he pays for the tickets _and_ the food; you go out for breakfast, lunch and dinner all the time, even brunch sometimes; you spend practically every waking moment of your day, when you aren’t in school, glued together. And if on the rare occasion you aren’t actually together, you text, or you call. I’ve seen you. You practically live together. Both of you happily drop whatever it is you’re doing for the other; you bicker like an old married couple; and you have your own little signals and jokes and _looks_.” Lydia listed, tilting her head to the side as she counted off her fingers.

“We’re pack, Lydia. So we spend a lot of time together, it’s no big deal. Isaac spends time with Allison and Scott; you and Jackson have each other, Erica and Boyd are inseparable. We’re the only two left, we make it work.”

“Stiles. If you were just ‘making it work’ for the sake of the pack, you wouldn’t be so close. You and Jackson make it work.”

“Jackson’s a dick though. Derek’s an asshole, but he’s an asshole like me. It’s part of our charm.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow at that. “Stiles. You sleep together. And I know you don’t _sleep_ together. But Boyd’s seen it, and your dad’s seen it. You sleep in the loft so much your scents practically embedded there. And last week Scott complained about smelling Derek all over your bed.”

“It helps with the nightmares.” Stiles defended.

“I know, Stiles. Trust me, I know. But this is Derek we’re talking about. The guy has walls around his walls. He doesn’t even like any of us sitting on his bed, but with you, he’ll let you sleep in it _with_ him. That’s saying something, even you can’t deny that.”

“Lydia.” Stiles sighed, exhausted by the sudden onslaught of information and revelations his tired brain was going through. No, he couldn’t deny it. Even he had known for a while that things were different between them than anyone else in the pack. Derek had grown more tactile with Stiles. Sure, that didn’t mean it was suddenly all heartfelt confession and feelings and memories; Derek was still monosyllabic and stoic and grumpy as always, but every now and again he’d smile, or he’d tease or make a comment and Stiles would get a glimpse of this more vulnerable person that he kept hidden. It came out more when they were alone, in a comfortable space like his house or the loft; but it was still more or less hidden, especially around the other members of the pack.

“I’m not going to deny it. But whatever _it_ is between me and Derek, it’s complicated okay? I don’t want to risk destroying it.”

Lydia leaned forwards, sincerity clear in her face as she rested a hand on his. “I know, Stiles. But, you are wearing his shirt.”

Stiles glanced down at his body, only then realising that that was why she had looked at it so obviously earlier. The olive green Henley that so clearly didn’t belong to him stood out like a sore thumb from his usual attire.

“You don’t have to have sex to be in a relationship, Stiles. Just think about it.”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, leaving it messy. “Yeah, okay.” He sighed out, relieved that the conversation was over when she threw him a soft smile and removed her hand from his, before turning back to her notebooks. 

He was so screwed.


	13. And the one time they were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter. I just want to say thank you so so so much from the bottom of my heart for all the lovely comments you guys have left over the course of this fic, they've made me smile and laugh so much the past week and I love each and every one of you for it. Also thank you to everyone who gave kudos or bookmarked or even just read this fic, it still amazes me people are reading my work, so thank you for giving up your time to read this! 
> 
> I'm really sad this is the last chapter now. I hope you guys have all enjoyed this fic, and I hope this last chapter finishes things up nicely! I may upload more work in the future, I have around twenty other finished fics and one-shots (all Sterek, because I'm trash) that I'm considering uploading over time, so look out for those!
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you!

“You’ve been quiet today.” Derek observed as he stood up from the couch, tidying up the collection of stray, dirty mugs they’d let accumulate on the coffee table over the afternoon.

“Hmm?” Stiles barely glanced up from his computer screen where he was only half paying attention to what was written, his brain too busy going over his earlier conversation with Lydia. The words had been swimming around in his head all afternoon, echoing and taunting him, like it was calling him out on his obliviousness. He’d barely been able to focus for the rest of his classes, and, on autopilot, drove himself to the loft afterwards. He didn’t even realise he was there until a couple of hours ago, and ever since then, his brain had kept wandering off.

“Stiles?” Derek snapped his fingers in front of his face, blocking his line of sight. It was enough to jolt Stiles out of his reverie, and, when he looked up again, he was faced with Derek watching him concernedly.

“What?” Stiles asked, his sluggish brain trying desperately to catch up as his brow furrowed at the Alpha standing over him.

“I asked if you were okay.” Derek repeated, moving to sit back down by Stiles’ side. He turned his body to face the teenager, his knees knocking against Stiles’ once before he rested his elbows on them.

“Yeah, I’m fine, dude. Really. Totally, two-hundred percent fine. Totally.” Stiles replied, his voice choked and breaking as he forced joviality into his tone.

“Stiles.” Derek said with a laugh, a soft smile forming on his lips quickly. “You know I’m a werewolf, right?”

Stiles swallowed audibly as he picked at the slightly scratched top corner of his laptop screen. “Like I could forget dude, you go all ‘grr’ on me all the time.” He teased, miming a set of fangs with his fingers to his mouth as he did a poor impression of a growl.

Derek rolled his eyes, and, with a playfulness he’d been slowly indulging more and more in since he and Stiles had gotten closer, he let his eyes flash and his fangs descend, snapping his jaw playfully at Stiles’ neck. Stiles jumped at the sudden move, having been caught off guard.

“Very funny.” Stiles grumbled when Derek pulled away, a smug grin plastered on his face. He stood up once again, moving towards the kitchen alcove to get things ready before the pack arrived. Stiles stared at his laptop screen, his conversation with Lydia returning to the forefront of his brain loudly. He knew he should say something, now that it had been brought to his attention he would find it harder to ignore; but at the same time, he didn’t want this, this easiness and calmness and _wholeness_ that he got when he was with Derek to disappear. It was like everything in him settled when Derek was near: his heartbeat evened, his brain slowed down, allowing him to think more and give him more time. He was calmer with Derek, like when they were separate Stiles was floating, drifting out to sea, but as soon as Derek walked in a room, he felt safe, secure.

Anchored.

He couldn’t lose that, couldn’t lose what he had with Derek over letting his feelings, his real feelings, the ones he’s been hiding and denying for so long now it was almost second nature, be known.

The words caught in his throat, and he felt a pressure weighing down on his sternum, like part of him was struggling to not go through with it.

And yet, he knew he had to.

“Hey.” Stiles stammered quietly, the words choked and dry as he forced them out. “Can I ask you something?”

Derek must have sensed the sudden change in atmosphere in the loft, as he took a minute or two to reply. “I already told you Stiles, I don’t know where my eyebrows go when I shift.” The words were forced, harsh in the empty loft as Derek tried to joke.

Stiles huffed out a sarcastic and clipped laugh. “I think I’m putting that down to ‘mysteries of the supernatural we will never get answers to’. No, I was gonna ask…” Stiles swallowed hard, closing his laptop lid and placing it against the base of the sofa. He leaned forward until his elbows were resting on his knee caps, his gaze set determinedly on the floor between his feet. “Are we dating?”

From the kitchen, the loud and echoing crash of a saucepan falling to the floor reverberated through the loft, followed by a quick succession of hollowed _thumps_ as a series of plastic tumblers fell off the counter. “What?” Derek wheezed out, voice high and strained once all the noise in the kitchen stopped.

“No!” Stiles started quickly, finally realising what exactly he said. “I mean. Like, are we, you know? I mean… It’s just… Ah shit.” He buried his face in his hands, letting his fingernails scrape over his skin, hoping he could take this all away.

He felt Derek move out of the kitchen and back towards the sofa, taking a seat on the coffee table opposite. He wrapped his hands lightly around Stiles’ wrists, pulling them away from his face slowly. “Hey, hey Stiles. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s just us. It’s just me.”

Stiles inhaled deeply, before exhaling even louder. He avoided Derek’s eyes as they sought his out, locking his gaze on Derek’s fingers around his wrist. “Okay. It’s just. It’s sort of come to my attention, ish, or it’s been pointed out by a couple, or a few members, actually, my dad included, of the pack, that we’re sort of...together.” Stiles winced, knowing he was still doing a terrible job of explaining. He dropped his hands out of Derek’s hold, scooting a little further back in the chair to put some distance between them. It didn’t help that Derek was right there in front of him, watching him closely, no doubt almost reading his mind.

“Not _together_ together. Just, like, we do things that other couples, like Scott and Allison or Erica and Boyd, or even Jackson and Lydia do. You know, we spend a lot of time together, and we go out to the movies and get food and, you know, go to the grocery store even though we don’t need to go together, and, I mean, we sleep together. I know that it started as a way to stop the nightmares, but I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had a nightmare in months, except now I can’t even sleep without having you right there. And I don’t know, dude. It’s just, Lydia was saying all this stuff to me earlier about how you don’t have to have sex to be in a relationship, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about what we’re like. Am I reading too much into this? Am I going insane? Because it feels like I’m going insane. You know what? I’m just gonna go. Home. And possibly dunk my head in a bucket of cold water. Okay?”

Stiles stood up, laptop in hand and ready to disappear, but found himself stopped by a hand grasping at his forearm. He glanced over his shoulder, heart stuttering in his chest as his eyes met Derek’s, seeing the familiar slightly amused and fond look the Alpha was giving him. He felt his knees buckle under the weight of such a look, Derek’s hand on his the only thing keeping him upright.

“Stiles. You’re an idiot.” Derek said softly, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“That doesn’t really answer my question dude.” Stiles mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand.

Derek rolled his eyes as he smiled. He removed his hand from Stiles’ forearm, peeling his laptop out of his grip before placing it gently down on the coffee table next to them. He straightened, bringing one hand to Stiles’ hip, his pinky finger brushing just under his shirt, hot against Stiles’ skin, sending shivers over his side, whilst his other hand cupped Stiles’ neck, just under his jaw, his thumb stretching to pull at the corner of his lips. He lent in slowly, shuffling in until all Stiles could see and breathe was Derek, and brushed his lips barely against Stiles’. He didn’t move any closer, didn’t close his mouth over Stiles’; instead, he just let them touch, let Stiles know what he wanted.

“This okay?” Derek’s breath ghosted over Stiles’ lips, sending cold tingles down his neck. Stiles let out an involuntary whine, before wrapping a hand over the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him in closer as he pressed into the kiss with an almost restrained fervour.

Derek moaned into his mouth as the kiss deepened, pushing in closer to Stiles, bringing the hand on Stiles’ hip around his back, like he was desperate to touch and taste and immerse. Stiles’ knees buckled as he all but slumped into Derek, his free hand moving to grip at the soft and worn fabric of Derek’s black Henley at his shoulder, hoping to keep himself upright. Without thinking, he pushed Derek backwards, stumbling over his own feet as he walked them back to the sofa. Derek sat down as soon as the back of his legs hit the cushions, pulling Stiles down with him so he was straddling the werewolf. Derek’s grip on his side tightened as Stiles situated himself on his lap, relishing in the heat burning through his legs and his chest.

Stiles’ fingers scrabbled over the back of Derek’s neck as he tugged at the short, fine strands of jet black hair he found there, almost whimpering at the delectable moan Derek breathed into his mouth. Derek’s fingers twitched against his hips, a barely there pinch of his claws digging in through his clothes, leaving Stiles short of breath.

“Wait, were we dating?” Stiles asked in between heaving breaths once he pulled away briefly for some much needed air. Derek leaned back slightly, swollen, wet and red lips parted, the tiniest hint of his bunny teeth poking out behind his top lip as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving alongside Stiles’.

“No.” Derek huffed out after another large swallow. His swollen lips widened into an open smile as his brought his fingers to card through Stiles’ mused hair, leaving it standing up messily. “We weren’t. I wanted to. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted it. And with my history…” He broke off, gaze falling away somewhere distant. Stiles heart tugged inside his chest, understanding why Derek had never said anything. “I was just happy to have you as a friend. I didn’t want to lose what we had.” He finished, fingers twitching against Stiles’ hip again.

Stiles whined low in his throat even as he nodded. He kissed Derek again, almost bruisingly as he brought their lips together, needing to taste and feel and let Derek know he wanted it to. “God.” He started, pulling away just enough for him to talk, not wanting to go too far. “I wanted you too. So much. But I didn’t know if you would, and I didn’t want to push anything until I was sure. Until you were ready. I wanted it to be your choice if something happened. But I also knew you were too damn selfless to say anything, so I was safe. I could want you from afar and just have these little parts of you that you shared.”

“We’re both idiots.” Derek breathed out, closing the small gap between them for another kiss. Stiles groaned at the teasing brush of Derek’s stubble over his face, scratching lightly, almost tickling him as their lips roved over each other, the barest hint of tongues poking out to dance and taste and tease.

“Wait, wait.” Derek said in between kisses. Stiles pushed away, leaning back on Derek’s legs, ready to move off, ready to _leave_ if Derek wanted him too. Derek rolled his eyes as his lips curled up into a smile, tugging Stiles back into him. “Did you say, _some_ of the pack said we were dating?” He asked.

Stiles’ brow furrowed, lust-addled mind taking a minute to figure out what Derek was talking about. He nodded after a minute, a hot flush starting to creep back over his cheeks. “Yeah, they kept making comments about us being boyfriends. Why?”

“They did it to me too.” Derek grumbled thoughtfully, thinking back over all the times he’d had to correct someone’s assumptions about them being together. Stiles barked out a laugh, bright and cheerful, a start contrast to the quiet mood he’d been in all afternoon. Derek’s eyes lit up at the noise as Stiles met his gaze, lips widening into the most euphoric smile Stiles had ever seen. His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight, and he made a silent vow with himself to always try to make Derek look like that.

“They’re not getting any credit for this.” Stiles said seriously, waggling a finger to indicate the two of them.

“Absolutely not.” Derek agreed, before pushing back up towards Stiles, slowly working his mouth open so he could taste Stiles fully.

So engrossed with each other, neither heard the loft door slide open as the pack arrived. A series of moans of disgust and noises of confusion echoed through the pack at seeing the two of them together, kissing and rutting against each other like there was no tomorrow. Stiles jolted away from Derek’s lips as soon as he realised they had an audience, a stark pink flush decorating both their cheeks.

“I’m confused. Have you been dating the whole time, or…?” Isaac questioned, cocking his head to one side like a puppy.

“Just started.” Derek breathed out, running a hand over Stiles’ back in an intimate gesture.

“Huh, finally.” Cora grumbled, causing Derek to roll his eyes as he lent in closer to Stiles.

“Yeah we know, you all saw it before we did, yadda yadda yadda.” Stiles mimicked with a wave of his hand as he shifted slightly in Derek’s lap to ease the cramping starting in his legs. Cora stuck her tongue out at him in response. “We’re not giving you any credit for it though.” He added, refusing to meet Lydia’s raised eyebrow and incredulous glare.

“I don’t care. At least the UST will stop.” Jackson said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Stiles barked out a laugh, throwing his head backwards and exposing his neck, missing the almost hungry gaze Derek gave at the flash of skin. “Oh, you are so wrong Whittemore. We are going to be so disgustingly cute and awesome. Prepare for sex, all the sex. I hope you have earplugs, maybe nose plugs as well.” He teased, winking at Derek as the Alpha rolled his eyes, almost fondly at Stiles’ antics.

Jackson gagged as his face, as well as Scott’s, paled, eyes widening in a haunted look as no doubt the image Stiles provided appeared in their minds.

“And on that note, we’re leaving. Pierogi, Stiles. Tomorrow night. You owe me.” Lydia called out, faux cheerily as she grabbed Jackson’s hand and pushed the pack out of the doorway to give the new (ish) couple some privacy, hoping they’d still be decent for dinner tomorrow.

They weren’t.

END


End file.
